


Miracle on Galactic Planet 34-ST

by LynnLarsh



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Holiday Melancholy, Keith saves Christmas, Lance misses his family, M/M, Time moves differently in space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 22:09:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9036317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LynnLarsh/pseuds/LynnLarsh
Summary: A Voltron Christmas Story





	

**Author's Note:**

> There's no better balm for a 102 fever during the holidays than a Very Voltron Christmas Tale. I wanted to get this posted before actual Christmas, so I guess having to call out of work played in my favor on this one?
> 
> Anywho, enjoy some Christmasy Klance Fluff. It doesn't wrap well, so I can't put it under the tree, but it's my gift to you this holiday season.

Keith isn’t good at this. Probably a combination of lack of experience and just general social ineptitude, but it’s never been something that _bothered_ him before. He’d watch people pair themselves off at the Garrison and think, _Stupid. What a waste of time and energy._ He’d see those pairs fizzle and die or self-destruct in public displays of explosive dismantling and think, _Saw that coming. Dumbasses._ It was the obvious choice to focus on his training, on his goal of being a pilot, on strengthening his mind and body. He had Shiro, their encounters brief but meaningful, and everyone else could suck it.

So he never learned what to _do_ in this situation. He’d never allowed himself the proper training, never thought he would need it.

Luckily, Hunk is in the first of the three places Keith expects him to be. Unluckily, it’s in the hanger with Pidge, doing experiments that Keith knows he’d never be able to wrap his head around. He doesn’t want to disturb them, but he doesn’t know who else to turn to about this. Turning to anyone at all has been like an itchy rash on his pride, one he’s scratched to bleeding, but he doesn’t have enough data to move forward. He doesn’t know what’s the right next step or what might just make things worse.

Enter Lance’s friends. Sure, over the last year or so of being Paladins of Voltron, they’ve become some level of Keith’s friends as well, or at the very least above average acquaintances. But they were Lance’s friends first. And Lance just happens to be the foundation of his current issue. So he swallows back the social anxiety of interrupting whatever they're doing, and dives right in.

“Um, hey,” Keith grabs their attention eloquently. They both look up from where they’re currently buried up to their elbows in alien tech, PIdge cocking her head at him in curiosity while Hunk smiles in usual kind welcome.

“Sup, buddy?” Hunk wipes some grease off his hands and gets to his feet. Pidge continues working as if he wasn’t even there.

“Hey,” Keith says again, kicking himself. “Have you talked to Lance recently?”

Hunk puts a finger to his chin, eyes squinting as he thinks back. “Not since training this morning, I don’t think. Did he skip lunch? Pidge and I ate down here.”

“I don’t know. I was doing drills through lunch.”

“You gotta eat, man.”

“Yeah, sure. But Lance,” Keith frowns, trying to get the conversation back on track. “When you talked to him at training, did he… Did it look like he was mad at me for some reason?”

Now _that_ gets Pidges attention, her head snapping up from a pile of wires and her eyes zeroing in on their conversation.

“Why would he be mad at you?” Hunk asks, voice tinged with genuine concern, though whether it’s for Keith, Lance, or both is impossible to tell.

“He hasn’t… I feel like he’s upset? But he won’t talk to me about it.” And Keith hates this, he _hates_ this. He’s not _good_ at this sort of thing. He runs a hand through his hair, forgetting he threw it in a ponytail for training, and rips out the band in frustration.

“Why would we know what’s bothering him when you’re the one who’s dating the guy?” Pidge chimes in, and Keith flinches. It still sounds weird out loud, still sounds like something Keith wouldn’t do. But they _are_ dating, have been for a couple of months or so now, which is why Lance’s unusual silence is so… Concerning.

Keith doesn’t do this sort of thing. What if he did something wrong? What if he ruined it somehow? Would Lance tell him, or would he just close himself off until one of them breaks up with the other? Would their breakup be a fizzle or an explosion? Probably an explosion. Definitely an explosion.

The train of thought must show on Keith’s face, because Hunk’s hand is suddenly on his shoulder, easing him away from his anxieties and grounding him back in the present.

“I’m sure, whatever’s up with Lance has nothing to do with you,” Hunk aims for comfort, but Keith came here _expecting_ it to be something to do with him, so it’s hard to shake, impossible for him to bite back the click of his tongue, the roll of his eyes. Hunk just smiles. “Lance is a bit overdramatic, and he’s definitely a flirt, but I’ve never seen him so attached to someone before, dude. Trust me, it’s not you.”

A warmth settles in Keith’s cheeks that he vehemently attempts to ignore, clinging to his frustration instead. “Then why won’t he talk to me?” He groans, slumping a bit. “This is all…” He waves his hand in a vague gesture between them. “This is all new to me. I don’t know him like you guys do. I don’t know what might make him… Quiet like this.”

Because Lance is never quiet. Lance is petty challenges during training and shouts of exuberance in Blue. Lance is bad pick-up lines over the coms and rambling embarrassment when Keith works up the courage to throw one back. Lance is loud in conversation and loud in bed and he was loud when he asked Keith out and even louder when Keith said yes and-

Lance is never quiet. Keith doesn’t know what to do with a Lance that’s quiet.

At this, Pidge finally deems their conversation worthy enough for her presence, getting to her feet and walking into their proximity with a thoughtful expression. “How long has he been acting weird?” Keith raises an eyebrow at her, surprised she hasn’t noticed, and Pidge smirks. “Not all of us have Lance eternally pinging on their radar,” she says, and Keith flushes, looking away. “In fact, I pretty much have him on semi-permanent mute. But as much as a quieter Lance sounds particularly awesome, tell us what you know and we’ll help you snap him out of it.”

After glancing from her to Hunk and back, Keith nods, digging through the last few days to recount anything that might have set him off. Eventually, they pinpoint where it started.

There had been a recon mission, just a quick pop into a galactic sector that was on the edge of one of Zarkon’s invading forces. Keith remembers Lance volunteering them to take a pod down for a closer look.

The planet itself had been minimally occupied, barely a couple thousand life forms spread out around the white fields and spattering of dark green foliage that made up most of the landscape. It had a peaceful, breathable atmosphere, the sky seemingly frozen in perpetual sunset, so Lance had made the executive decision to land the pod and take to the mission on foot.

The more peaceful the planet, the more determined everyone had become in ensuring their protection against Zarkon; an attempt to preserve the goodness still in the universe anywhere and anyway they can. So Keith and Lance gathered as much information as they could, questioning many of the local higher ups on their security protocols and boosting moral by talking to the general public about Voltron.

Or, in Lance’s case, flirting.

Keith has never considered himself as someone prone to jealousy or envy or possessiveness, but then again, he’s never considered himself as a lot of things since Lance. A friend, a _boyfriend_ , someone very possibly in love. So it’s a surprise the first time Lance joking flirts with an alien under their protection and Keith feels the insurmountable desire not to talk to him for a week.

Keith’s jealousy had spiked then too, watching Lance interact with a pretty humanoid senator, but he’d bit his tongue, possibly even gone quiet and temperamental for a bit. When Keith asks Pidge if his foul mood might have set Lance off, she merely scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“Definitely not. He thinks it’s adorable.”

Hunk seconds the notion, explaining in detail Lance’s new obsession with riling Keith up. Apparently he finds Keith’s possessive and jealous side “undeniably cute” and even “occasionally sexy” so has made it a point to illicit as many of those reactions in him as possible. Keith vows to get back at him for that at his earliest convenience.

Now, however, there’s still the source of Lance’s somber mood to uncover.

After practically dragging Lance away from the senator, they’d started their trek back to the pod, most of their intel gathered and temporary security protocols put in place. This planet’s version of night had already started to set in, their sunset-colored sky deepening into blues and purples that reflected prettily in the white landscape. 

Keith remembers how warm Lance’s palm had felt when he’d reached between them to link their fingers together. He remembers the way his chest had swelled with a different kind of warmth, how he’d stolen a quick glance to his side only to find Lance already looking at him, smiling. He remembers thinking how strange it was to be so happy over something so simple.

He doesn’t recount any of this to Pidge and Hunk.

He does, however, give them a brief detailing of what had happened next, though Keith still doesn’t quite understand it.

“Keith,” Lance had whispered his name suddenly, pulling them both to a stop without warning. When Keith had looked over at him in surprise, his eyes were pointed towards a spread of land dotted with the same towering, dark green trees they’d seen on their way in. But now, amidst the backdrop of nightfall, they seemed littered with pinpricks of light, their branches glowing at the tips with something Keith could only assume were bioluminescents. 

Keith vaguely recalls saying something along the lines of, “They’re pretty cool,” but it’s Lance’s hand tightening in his that he remembers most. It’s Lance’s words, soft and awed drifting between them that had burrowed into his head to stay.

“No, Keith. Don’t you see it? It’s like Christmas.”

“Of course,” Pidge whispers, the words coming off almost exasperated. The screen connected to her wrist band blinks into existence immediately, running numbers Keith has no idea how to begin translating. “Hunk. What’s the formula for calculating time dilation in regards to relative velocity?”

Hunk hums to himself for a moment before coming up behind Pidge and typing something onto the screen from over her shoulder. Keith watches from the other side of the transparent hologram, but even if it weren’t backwards, he’s certain he’d have no idea what it all meant.

Eventually, after some calculations, Pidge huffs out a breath. “I knew it.” The screen vanishes from existence once again and she levels Keith an expression he’s not used to seeing on her face. Something like fondness and sadness combined. Melancholy, he thinks.

“I’m surprised Lance figured it out before we did,” she says, and when Hunk chuckles, that same look mirrored in his eyes, Keith has to hold back the spike of frustration.

“Figured out what?” He asks, willing his voice to stay level. But if Lance is hurting, he wants to know why. _Needs_ to know why.

“Keith,” Hunk chimes in, voice as placating as ever, like he can sense Keith’s hackles rising. “How long do you think we’ve been up here, fighting Zarkon and training and forming Voltron and stuff?”

“I don’t know,” Keith shrugs. Time has always been pointless to him, really. It moves forward at its own pace, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, and Keith has simply learned to keep up with it where he can. “Maybe what? Like a year and a half?”

“From our perspective, it’s been a year and seven months,” Pidge explains. “Which, considering Lance’s pretty big family, probably means a year and seven months of missed birthdays, missed holidays-”

“Christmas,” Keith whispers when the dots connect, remembering the trees and the white landscape and Lance’s face filled with awe. And sadness.

“Exactly,” Hunk nods, eyes matching Lance’s sadness almost perfectly. “But while we’ve only missed a year and seven months worth of celebrations, back on earth it’s been… Well. Time dilation is tricky to calculate at the best of times but-”

“Let’s just say, our best case scenario is five years,” Pidge finishes for him, and even though she’s doing her best to keep her expression neutral, Keith can still see the lingering melancholy, can feel it spreading across his own chest like sympathy pains.

“Five Christmases away from his family, possibly more,” Keith clarifies for himself, heart clenching when Pidge and Hunk both nod in unison. Keith never really did Christmas. It was a slapdash celebration at best in the foster homes he bounced between, and he avoided all aspects of it at the Garrison. But Keith didn’t have a big family and Christmas carols and presents for everyone under a decorated tree. If Lance’s Christmases were lush and joyous and filled with love, it’s no wonder he’d miss it. It’s no wonder he’s gone quiet, filled to the brim with thoughts of years of missed celebration, missed laughter, missed family. It makes Keith’s heart break just imagining it.

Lance’s words drift through his memory, filled with longing and reserved happiness. _No, Keith. Don’t you see? It’s like Christmas._

And Keith jumps on the idea like a man on a mission.

 

.x.X.x.

 

Lance knows he’s brooding. He knows he’s been cooped up in his room long enough that people are probably starting to get suspicious; hell, Keith has asked him what’s wrong, like, ten times already, and the guy’s hardly the most perceptive of their little motley crew.

But it’s just… Once he started thinking about them, he couldn’t stop. And now they’re the only things on his mind.

He’d never really considered the sacrifice, he realizes, though not for the first time. Everyone has something to fight for: Shiro fights for his memories, for revenge, for the Holts. Keith fights for himself, for the cause. Pidge fights for her family, for the chance at finding her brother and father still alive somewhere. Allura and Coran fight for everything they’ve lost, everything they have a second chance at saving. Even Hunk fights for those trapped under Zarkon’s furry, purple thumb, for people like the Balmerans. 

But Lance… Lance doesn’t have a cause. His family is safe and sound back on Earth. He would visit them once a month when he was at the Garrison and call his mother twice a week. He would get care packages filled with his abuela’s homemade empanadas and birthday presents from his siblings that were definitely mostly contraband. He would text his big brother when he was frustrated and call his cousin when he needed help with Garrison stuff and-

And sure. He’s fighting Zarkon because it’s the only thing he can do to make sure his invasion never reaches their solar system. He’s fighting because he’s good at it and Blue chose him and the adrenaline is something he thrives off of.

But seeing those lights and that white landscape so similar to freshly fallen snow… It had reminded him of everything he had forgotten he missed. It had reminded him of how much time had passed, more for them than for him, if he considers relative velocities. Not that he wants to consider that. At all.

To make matters worse, no one knows about any of it. Voltron, the incoming invasions, the universe’s peril. For all anybody knows, Hunk, Pidge, and Lance just vanished off the face of the earth. If years have passed for them, everyone probably thinks they’re dead.

Was his family’s first Christmas after his disappearance riddled with worry and fear and heartbreak? Did they file missing persons reports and spend the holidays searching for him on a planet he’d already left far, far behind? As the possible years went on, did they stop trying as hard, stop putting Christmas and birthdays on hold for the slight chance he wasn’t gone forever?

Do they still put a present for him under the tree? Do they still hang his stocking up on the mantle? 

With a choked off sob, Lance throws himself out of his bed, pacing around a bit before deciding he needs to get out of his room. It feels claustrophobic all of a sudden, like his thoughts and memories are amplified in the tiny space, echoing off of alien metal walls and pounding against the inside of his head.

When he walks into the hallway, he nearly stumbles over Pidge, her tiny arms overflowing with wires and mismatched light bulbs. “Coming through!” She calls out as Lance scrambles out of her way.

“What’s all that for?” Lance shouts after her, but she’s already zipping away, around the corner in a flash. “O-kay…?” Lance huffs to himself, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans and making his way to the dining hall. Maybe a late afternoon snack will make him feel better.

Unsurprisingly, Hunk is already there, whipping something up that smells absolutely delicious and vaguely familiar. He’s so enthralled by whatever formula he’s typing into the goo dispenser’s main data bank that he doesn’t hear Lance approach.

“Whatcha got cookin’ there, buddy?” He asks, and Hunk all but rips the goo dispenser from the wall in surprise.

“Oh! Lance!” He practically screeches, closing the panel over the data port’s screen with a loud slam. “What’s, um… What are you doing here?” Even though Lance knows there’s nothing in his hands, Hunk hides them behind his back like they’re a secret in and of themselves. Lance can’t help but raise an eyebrow at him in confusion.

“You’re not trying to mess with Coran’s settings again, are you?” Lance follows the only lead that makes sense. “He’s gonna give you cleaning duty for, like, a month this time, dude.”

Something in Hunk’s expression shifts, starting with relief and traveling through an indescribable array of emotions, before settling on sheepish. “Mum’s the word, alright? He won’t even notice. I’m just trying to get rid of that weird metallic taste that always sticks to the back of your throat, you know?”

“Boy, do I…” Lance shudders, patting Hunk playfully on the arm. “Well, god speed then. I’ll keep an eye out for Coran, make sure he doesn’t stumble in before you’re done saving our pallets from endless, metallic torment.”

Hunk chuckles, tension easing out of his shoulders as Lance heads towards the door. “Thanks, buddy.”

Lance gestures over his head in a backwards salute, shuffling back into the hallway. Well. If Hunk was busy in the kitchen, maybe he could hit up the training deck, push something around a bit. Or visit the hangar, just sit up in Blue’s cockpit for a while and stew. Blue’s presence has become an eternal comfort to him, easing his frayed nerves during battle, calming his heart and whispering in his ear like a protective force, reminding him that he’s not alone. Yeah. He should just go see Blue.

Before he’s about to turn the corner into the hangar, however, Allura appears in front of him. “Lance!” She smiles, beautifully accented voice tinged with a desperation that seems vaguely suspicious.

“Princess?” Lance responds, taking a step back. She follows him, though, even wrapping her arm around his shoulder in a way that would have made him melt a year ago. Now, after endless grueling training sessions and ruthless battle plannings, he’s learned to associate her kindness with the very likely possibility of something that could get him killed.

True to form, she chuckles softly to herself as she leads him away from the hangar, as if she can sense his discomfort. “I know you’re probably busy, but I need your help with something,” she says, grip tightening around his shoulders as if to prevent him running away. Lance’s defenses rise, ready and willing to come up with any excuse necessary; he’s not looking forward to another repeat of the Invisible Maze tests.

“Don’t look so frightened,” she laughs, eventually taking him to the main deck, a bright screen already illuminated and zoomed in. On Earth’s galactic sector. When Lance looks at her in confusion, she simply winks. “I realized that, for as much as this was originally an Altean cause, I never took the time to learn about the Earthlings fighting for it. So, would you mind?”

“Mind what?” Lance whispers dumbly, his throat already swelling at the idea of Earth, thinking about it, talking about it. Allura’s smile softens as her arm falls from his shoulder. She waves her hand across the screen and Earth itself stretches into frame.

“Will you tell me about your home, Lance?”

And it hurts. It hurts so much, just thinking about all the stuff he’s left behind. But he does. He tells her everything he can think of. Whenever she has a question, he excitedly elaborates until she understands. Whenever she relates a story of his to something from Altea, they both laugh and sigh and every now and then sit in complete silence for a moment or two. He tells her about his family and Veradero Beach, about the sun reflecting off the ocean and the way the rain smells.

He tells her about Christmas.

“We have an Altean Festival that sounds similar to your Earthling Christmas,” Allura hums thoughtfully. “It was always such a joyous time, surrounded by family and friends, dancing and sharing in stories of everyone’s travels. Father would always give me a new dress for the occasion. In exchange, I would always save the first dance for him.”

“It sounds nice,” Lance smiles, though it’s a bit wobbly. “Christmas is pretty big in my family, you know? Like, everyone dresses in their ugliest Christmas sweaters and we make hot cocoa even though it’s still hot outside, and we sing Christmas carols on the back porch once the sun goes down, even though most of my family can’t keep a tune to save their lives. But that never mattered. It was about coming together, everybody living and breathing the exact same moment.”

Lance stares at the slightly shimmery hologram of Earth and feels his eyes start to burn. “We- We would get up extra early to open presents and put on A Muppet Christmas Carol in the background, and my mom would make us all breakfast and- And…”

“Lance?” Allura’s voice is a concerned whisper, which alerts Lance to the fact that, yup. He’s started crying. He viciously wipes his hand across his face, because way to be embarrassing, but he’s always been one of those people; once he starts crying, he can’t stop.

“S-Sorry, I just… I miss them,” he chokes out, burying his face in one arm. “I left them all without warning and now we’re so far away, and it just feels like I’ll n-never… Like I might never see them again.”

“You’re keeping them safe,” Allura aims for comfort, placing a hand on his shoulder, but it just makes Lance feel like a child.

“I know,” he whimpers back. “I know that. I just wish I could tell them that I was alive. That I was doing s-something important.”

“They’ll know, Lance,” she says as she pulls him into a hug. “We’ll make sure they know everything you’ve done for them. And for the universe itself.”

It should be enough, but it’s not. Not when he has no idea how long that’ll be, whether or not they’ll still be alive by the time they’ve beaten Zarkon and returned to Earth. But he knows Allura is trying, and he knows he’s being overly emotional right now, especially after his trip with Keith. So he swallows down his grief and pulls out of Allura’s hug, attempting his best smile.

“Thanks, Princess,” he says, voice a little hoarse. He knows his face must be streaked with tears, his eyes red, but he does his best to put himself together before her. “I guess the idea of Christmas just set me off. It’s my favorite holiday, you know?”

“Funny you should mention that,” Shiro’s voice surprises them both from the doorway. The moment Allura’s eyes settle on them, they light up, a smile stretching across her face.

“Are we ready?”

“All set,” Shiro winks, motioning for them to follow. Allura practically skips behind Lance, grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him forward. He stumbles a bit at first, but eventually allows himself to be led.

“Um, guys?” He asks, even more suspicious now than he has been all day. Why is everyone acting so weird? “What’s going on?”

Neither Allura nor Shiro grace him with an answer, opting instead to continue down the hall without another word. Lance tries to get them to talk once more, but then thinks better of it, silently hoping that whatever it is they have planned doesn’t involve anything life threatening. Though with Shiro’s calming smile leading the way, Lance doubts that plausible death will be a factor on this one.

Once they’ve reached their destination (the hangar, it would seem), Shiro speaks up suddenly. “Alright, Allura. Cover his eyes.”

“Wait, what?” Lance squeaks, jumping when Allura does just that, long, elegant fingers moving to obscure his line of sight. “Guys, you’re kinda freaking me out here.”

Shiro chuckles, which is simultaneously soothing and also embarrassing, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on what it might mean, Allura urging him forward and into the hangar.

It’s absolutely _freezing_ inside, sounds of shuffling meeting his ears for a moment before everything goes quiet. And then-

And then he hears a soft, crackly melody followed by lyrics that he, and probably half of the population of Earth, knows by heart.

_“Have yourself a merry, little Christmas. Let your heart be light. From now on, our troubles will be out of sight…”_

“Wha-?” Allura’s hands fall away from his face and Lance feels his mouth fall open, unable to properly take it all in.

His eyes fall on their Lions first, each one bedecked in various decorations; ribbons, lights, alien flowers. Even a rather large and impressive wreath made of some sort of green plant hangs around Blue’s neck, her head tipped up in pride.

The music seems to be coming from some sort of sound system Pidge is currently stationed behind, her hands working around switches and metal bits to seemingly keep it running. And as Lance looks about the room, he notices that every inch of the hangar has been touched by a similar aesthetic. Decorations hanging on the walls, most of which looking to be adorably hand-made, a table piled high with goodies that smell surprisingly similar to the usual holiday fare, even-

Lance’s breath catches as he finally notices the large pine-tree looking thing in the middle of the hangar, bioluminescent lights twinkling in the dimness of the hangar. Lance feels like the Grinch, his heart growing so large so fast he’s afraid it might burst from his chest. But there’s no denying what this is.

It’s Christmas.

A heavy coat falls over his shoulders, reminding him of how cold it is. When he looks up out of reflex, wondering how the temperature could have dropped so severely in here of all places, he’s awarded the sight of gently falling snow. He holds out his hand to catch one, but it falls through his palm, continuing its decent. Alright, not real snow, but it’s- It’s still-

Holy shit, it’s _Christmas._

“G-Guys?” He finally finds the strength to look around the room, catching everyone’s proud and wistful gazes. Hunk is standing next to the table of goodies, and Lance remembers running into him earlier, that smell in the kitchen that was so familiar. Cookies. It had smelt like cookies. “Hunk?”

“It took some serious tweaking, but I think I managed to get most of this stuff to taste on point,” he says, scratching shyly at the back of his neck. “You’ll, uh. You’ll have to let me know what you think.”

Lance nods, still too dumbstruck to do more than stare wide-eyed from him to Pidge. “How are you doing that?” He asks, a bit out of context, but she knows what he’s talking about instantly. 

“I managed to reverse engineer a distress signal into a honing beacon back to Earth. I have no idea what time or place this is coming from, or how long it’ll last, but the last few songs have been carols, so hopefully we’ve got a solid connection going through some old holiday station. If it starts playing Ke$ha, I’m killing it though.” Pidge’s voice is serious at first, but then she winks at him, and Lance can’t help the flustered laugh that escapes him. 

Eventually, Lance looks over his shoulder, to where Shiro, Coran, and Allura are all watching him, gauging his reaction. “Did… Did you guys do all this?” He asks, voice very obviously awed and overwhelmed. All three of them shake their heads.

“My job was to distract you,” Allura offers. “Just in case you tried to get into the hangar before it was ready. Which you did.”

“And I helped set up the atmospheric holograms!” Coran beams. “Pidge adjusted the temperature and offered me advice on how to best program this “snow” of yours, but I think it turned out quite nicely, if I do say so myself.”

“It’s _very_ nice, Coran,” Lance sniffles and looks up at the fake flurries, smiling. “Thank you.”

“And Keith and I went to go get the tree,” Shiro explains his bit, and for the first time, Lance seems to notice Keith standing just off to the side, away from everyone’s attention. When Lance sees him, his heart skips. He’s bundled in his own coat (just like everyone else is, Lance now realizes), and he’s trying very hard not to be too obvious about looking in Lance’s direction.

“The tree…” Lance whispers to himself, remembering their mission to the Christmas-like planet, how seeing it had warmed Lance’s heart before pulling him into a downward spiral of bitter melancholy. Had Keith realized? Had all this…? Lance looks over at Shiro, voice edging barely past a whisper. “Did he…?” It’s all he can get out, but Shiro understands, placing a hand on Lance’s shoulder.

“This whole thing was Keith’s idea,” he says, putting the half-formed realization into words. Keith must hear him, because Lance watches him slump a bit into the collar of his coat in embarrassment. It’s too cute, too Keith, a side of Keith that Lance has only recently been allowed to see, and he can’t help the way his face warms and his heart melts at the sight.

Without warning, Lance pulls away from Shiro’s grasp and walks over to his boyfriend, situating himself right in Keith’s personal space. For a moment, they just stand there, Lance’s face still frozen in shock and Keith’s getting redder by the second. “M-Merry Christmas?” Keith says, and then scowls at himself, though Lance has no idea why. Still, it’s adorable, and it makes Lance want to kiss away the wrinkle between his brows. 

“You did all this?” Lance asks instead, voice still filled with awe. Keith looks at him for a second before quickly looking away.

“I know you’ve been sad since our mission,” he explains in a rush. “And I know you miss your family more than you probably miss Christmas, but I just… I saw the way you were looking at the trees back on planet and you seemed so happy for a second, and I can’t get you your family, but this was something I could do. So. I did.” If it’s possible for Keith to get any redder, the explanation definitely does it, his cheeks practically crimson by the time he’s finished. “I mean, everyone helped. It wasn’t just me. But, I guess I thought a Christmas with us might make you feel better. Not that we’re trying to replace your family or anything, but-”

“Keith,” Lance cuts him off with a chuckle, reaching out to grab Keith’s upper arms as if grounding him, keeping him from tumbling out of his own body like the words seem to be tumbling out of his mouth. Lance smiles. “I love it.”

One beat, then two. “You do?” Keith whispers, eyes wide, hopeful.

In lieu of repeating himself, Lance leans in, covering Keith’s lips with his own, a deep and passionate kiss. They both melt into it, breathing softly together, until the moment they reluctantly pull apart.

“Thank you, Keith,” Lance whispers against Keith’s lips before pulling him into a hug, holding him as tight and as close as he can. “Thank you.”

“Merry Christmas,” Keith repeats, voice a bit less shy, but still filled with nervous emotion.

When Lance finally releases him, its with his familiar smile comfortably back in place. He slings an arm around Keith’s shoulders and looks to the room at large, the sounds of Jingle Bell Rock drifting in choppy but melodious waves throughout the hangar. “Now I know how the Whos felt when the Grinch saved Christmas!” Lance beams, dragging Keith towards the table filled with oddly shaped but deliciously smelling goodies. Keith pushes Lance’s arm away.

“Shut up. I just literally made you Christmas. Does that sound Grinch-like to you?”

“He’s got a point,” Hunk chuckles, handing Lance what smells like hot cocoa but looks to be a mug of steaming swamp water. He takes a sip and is thrilled to find the taste matches the smell, not the color.

“Fine, fine,” Lance chuckles, grabbing a mug and handing it to Keith. When Keith goes to grab it, however, Lance swoops in to steal another kiss instead. Keith sputters for a second before falling into it, even reaching up to run his fingers through Lance’s hair. This time, when they pull away, Keith looks less agitated, more at ease. Which is why Lance chooses that moment to say, “Hey Keith? All I want for Christmas is you.”

Expectedly, all the humans in the room respond with various groaning degrees of expiration.

Except Keith. All Keith does is blink, grab Lance by the back of the neck, and pull him in for one more very brief but very intimate kiss. When he lets go, takes a step back, Lance is left a little blindsided, lips parted in surprise and a notable heat crawling into his cheeks.

“You too,” Keith says, placing one last kiss to the corner of Lance’s slack mouth. Then, without another word, Keith grabs his mug of cocoa out of Lance’s hand and wanders over to Shiro.

Lance doesn’t know whether to be amazed at the slick move or ashamed that Keith might have missed Lance’s perfectly timed use of Mariah Carey lyrics. Before he gets the chance to decide, however, Pidge chimes in behind him.

“Oh my god. You guys deserve each other.”

And she’s not wrong. Looking around at the Christmas Keith made especially for him, Lance makes a decision. Even when he misses his family, even when their traditions seem pointless so far, far away from Earth, even when they fight or forget something important or nearly die in battle time after time after time, he’s got Keith. And that’s all he wants. Not just for Christmas, but for every day of his life.

 _“I’ll be home for Christmas,”_ Pidge’s makeshift radio sings, the occasional word lost to white noise. And Lance thinks, sure. One day, maybe, he’ll be able to get back home, back to Earth, back to his family. But right now, with the Paladins of Voltron and old Christmas carols and hot swamp cocoa and holographic snowflakes… and Keith. This feels pretty damn close to home too, doesn’t it?

Lance looks over at where Keith and Shiro are talking about something he’s too far away to hear, and just for a moment, Keith catches his eye. He smiles and Lance grins and it does. It really, really does.

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and may whatever you celebrate be a joyous occasion surrounded by the people you hold most dear.


End file.
